Grrothek's Need
As usual, Jabba the Hutt's palace is alive with the throng of hangers-on and sycophants. The gangster himself is hunched atop his dais, with Salacious Crumb perched next to his occasionally twitching tail. The majordomo, a Twi'lek, motions for Grrothek to wait. Then Bib Fortuna informs the magnificent Jabba that they are receiving a visitor who wishes to bargain. Jabba ho-hos and turns his big orange eyes to regard the Gamorrean. He says something in Huttese, and the silver protocol droid to Jabba's right says, "The exalted and wise Jabba bids you welcome, and suggests that you state your business." Grrothek enters the throne room with a wide, proud gait, but genuflects appropirately before rising again and speaking to the Protocol Droid in the grunts and squeals of his language. After a moment the Protocol Droid tilts its head toward Jabba. "It seems that the Gamorrean is in need of a ship, exalted one." Jabba ho-ohs! He reaches into a jar of squirming frog-things, draws one out and puts it into his slimy slit-mouth. It slides down his gullet, and then Jabba fixes his attention on Grrothek. "A Gamorrean who can pilot a starship? Intriguing." Grrothek grunts some more, a look of half-embarassement and half-irritation upon it. The Droid provides the proper translation, "He says that he is not very good at piloting, your worship. Rather a friend of his would do most of the piloting. He says that he is a bounty hunter, however, and needs a ship to pursue his targets." Jabba bobs his mounded head, gesturing with his blunt arms. "I am in a position to assist in your endeavor, but you will be indebted. Service to Jabba the Hutt will be required." Grrothek grunts sharply in Gamorrese. "The Gamorrean says that he was once in service to another Hutt, and that he served him will and faithfully," the droid says, "However, he claims that the Hutt, Lurgo by name, disbanded the organization and left him with out a job. He wants some assurance that he will have some job security if he pledges to you." The droid pauses a moment, then relates. "He also seems quite adamant that he does not want a job in 'guard duty.' He says he prefers to... 'bash things...?'" Jabba drops his mouth open, his hand wavering over a control button of some kind. "You dare compare Jabba the Hutt to that amateur?" Grrothek genuflects promptly, rifle laid on the ground in front of him in submission. He whimpers in his languages lightly. "No comparison, your excellecy," The droid says with some urgency. "The Gamorrean says that Lurgo was but 'Rancor Dung' and not worthy to cross the arches of your gates. He says that he is glad to be rid of wretched service to foolish Lurgo and wants nothing better than to serve a Hutt who will give him 'honorable tasks.'" Jabba oh-hos. "How much does your pilot require?" Grrothek stays kneeling an emits the amount softly. "110,000 credits, by your excellency's grace," says the droid, translating the Gamorrean. "He says that it would be for a YT-1300 so that they can both hunt bounty and carry cargo for your excellency's profit." Jabba gestures to Bib Fortuna. "Give him what he requires." The majordomo bows to Jabba, and then scurries through the crowd, leaving the chamber for now. Grrothek remains bowed, and grunts something quietly. "The Gamorrean asks for your leave to engage in a show of marksmanship that you may see what sort of servant you have acquired with your generosity," the droid translates. "A... rough translation, your grace. A literal translation would be something like. 'Grrothek want show boom, for show good got you.'" The droid shrugs, as best as a protocol droid can. Jabba oh-hos and bobs his mounded head in approval. Grrothek nods and holds his rifle at the ready. He grunts twice, sharply. "He asks you to name your target, your excellency" the droid says. The Hutt takes a few moments, considering with great seriousness. And then his amber-orange eyes roll toward the silver droid. His tongue lolls out grossly. A blunt hand indicates the protocol droid and he laughs huffingly. The silver droid, about 20 feet from Grrothek, raises his gleaming arms and gasps in electronic alarm. "Oh, my. What have I done to earn your wrath, mighty Jabba?" Grrothek grins with pleasure at this pronouncement and aims the rifle at the droid, squeezing the trigger and firing once. The blast hits the droid squarely in the chest, vaporising it immediately. The extremities -- arms, legs, and head -- fly outward like the supernova of a star. The head hits the ceiling with a ring and lands near Grrothek's heavy boot. He grunts at the droid. The droid, feeling still the duties of his programming, translates the Gamorrean's words. "He says... he ... never liked... droids... your excellency... He thanks you for... the opportunity... tooo... seeerrrve... yooouuu...." The voice lengthens and dies, the light of the eyes blinking out. The Gamorrean kicks the head like a ball and raises his rifle in salute to the Hutt, pride in his face. The Hutt chortles. Salacious Crumb swings his furred snout around to stare at the ruins of the droid, and then he begins shrieking laughter. Everyone else in the room begins laughing as well. It is about this time that Bib Fortuna returns with two boxes contained the credits sought by the Gamorrean. Grrothek accepts the credits from Bib Fortuna and grins at the Hutt. He leans down to the ground and begins to write in the dust in basic so that the Hutt can read it. "Who you me want kill?" the Gamorrean spells out very carefully. The Hutt doesn't answer, but Fortuna does, in Gamorrese: "The master no tell. You give datapad number. You get contacted when needed, yes?" The Gamorrean nods and writes out the number in the dust of the floor. Fortuna looks at the number, then tilts his head and gestures with long-nailed fingers toward the archway leading out. "Farewell," he says in Gamorrese. Grrothek waves in recognition of the Hutt, then of Fortuna. He slings the rifle over his back and leaves the throne room, grunting and slobbering. Category:Reach of the Empire Logs